When I was a little girl, my mama used to squeeze me on the cheeks and tell me I had the heart of a bull. Though I found it rather insulting at the time, I've come to understand her perspective in retrospect. After all, I never backed down from a challenge. Whether that meant I was getting perfect marks or getting into fights with boys; I've always been down to do whatever it takes. I'm thankful that I never quite grew out of this abrasive mindset now that I've found myself in a situation where it's extremely necessary. I've always kind of assumed that I wouldn't get much help with college. My parents had raised five girls, me being the last, and put them each through schooling. By the time my senior year rolled around, the funds had virtually dried up. It certainly didn't help that FAFSA provided me with no grants whatsoever. At 16 years old, I knew I needed a plan, or at least something to fall back on, so I did the most obvious thing and got a job. Of course, I couldn't afford a vehicle, so employment options were extremely limited. But after weeks of sending applications and making follow-up calls every single morning without fail, I managed to snag a job at a Starbucks right across the street from my house. I worked as many hours as I could while attending high school and saved practically every penny, but I still couldn't find comfort in my funds, so I got another job. This one was more private, as I was to babysit the children of my older sister's friend on the weekends, but it was a job nonetheless. It wasn't easy for me being someone who gets quite uncomfortable around children, but I held onto that bull mentality with all my strength and powered through. There's a very unique pressure that comes with being the last born of a family of "disappointments", as my father calls them. My parents have always burdened me with the expectation to be the one to finally make it out and find great success. According to them, the one-way ticket to this so-called success requires medical school. The only problem is that I've never been interested in medicine. I love art and technology; career paths that my parents don't believe in at all. So not only must I support myself financially, but emotionally, in order to pursue the path that I'm passionate about. Once I get bogged down by the pressure of it all, I will crumble completely, which I simply cannot afford to do. I refuse to prove my parents right. To add more spice to my already colorful life, I was diagnosed with lupus the summer of my Sophomore year. It began with a stiffness in my knuckles that traveled slowly outward to the rest of my limbs, only to be temporarily solved by a week-long hospital stay and a Benlysta prescription. To say that it was a traumatic experience would be an understatement. Despite everything, every time I am faced with a challenge, that bull inside of me roars to life and keeps me going. I'm constantly applying for scholarships, researching internships, working, studying, and simply doing all that I can. I plan to graduate with an MIS degree in four years and find a stable job to pay off my loans. I won't be the failure my parents assume I will be. At the end of the day, I am the only one who can save myself, and that's gotta stand for something.

When I was younger, you would have thought that a book was a physical extension of my body. I was always holding one: be it at the dinner table, in bed, walking, talking-- you name it. I was probably more active in my fantasy worlds than my own. As for the day that changed my life; I remember it like it was yesterday: walking up to the shelf of my eighth-grade English class and spotting a tiny paperback with a yellow spine. "The Little Prince", it read. I was immediately charmed by the cover, as it was decorated with little illustrated stars. A drawing of a small planet and an even smaller boy looked back at me. The almost chalky feel of the pages against my fingers and the minimal creak of the spine as I cracked it open greeted my ears. In an instant, I was transported into the world of the aviator as he recites his encounter with The Little Prince. The Prince had started on a small asteroid where he was accompanied by a rose he loved very much and worked tremendously to protect before he became exasperated by her vanity and left to explore other planets. Those planets each consisted of one adult, each of which was consumed by their given occupation despite its overall uselessness to anyone but themselves. Eventually, The Prince travels to Earth and discovers a garden of roses. He feels betrayed, as his own rose misled him about her uniqueness. He comes across a fox, who repeatedly asks to be tamed by him. He reasons that until he is tamed, he is nothing more than a fox like every other fox on the planet, "But if you tame me, then we shall need each other. To me, you will be unique in all the world. To you, I shall be unique in all the world." The weight of these words hit me like a train. Before this moment, I was never enlightened by such a perspective. The rose--one like any other-- became special to the Prince because he loved her and took care of her. That alone made her one in a million. I began to individually consider everything in my life: each and every relationship from my mother to my dog to the people I greet in my day to day. Even the trees in my front yard and the stuffed animals I cuddled with every night gained a new meaning. I had tamed them, so they were special, and the people in my life had tamed me and added that special quality to me in turn. I adopted a new appreciation for the little things in life and began to perceive everyone else to be their own Little Prince, with their own little asteroid consisting of all of their belongings. I find it absurd, yet incredible that I'm existing on a planet with 7 billion different people with their own unique experiences. There's beauty in the fact that we have the opportunity to choose which aspects of our lives to tame, and which to let go of. I like to think that I've maintained my determination to be mindful of the things around me since I first read The Little Prince. Objects like my guitar that's kept me busy and creative; people like my big sister who takes care of me and makes me laugh; I try my best to never take them for granted. The Little Prince taught me to nourish my asteroid and all of the roses that I've tamed, for that's what gives life meaning.